The Never-Ending Adventures of Barney Stinson
by C0ldSteel
Summary: Ted's not the only one who can tell a good story. The safest way to expose all the dirt on your friends (and especially the dirt on yourself) is to wait until you're already dead. Duh. Legendary fun from Barney's point of view! M rating for possible future chapters; first is T.
1. Mind-blowing Introduction

_Sherlock and Doctor Who are awesome, but let's take a break for a little How I Met Your Mother. Because I feel like it (and no one's reviewing my Sherlock crossover at the moment). Barney Stinson is too good a character to let TV script writers have all the fun. I'm trying to write it more or less in the style and flavor of the show, but with a Barney perspective twist. Enjoy.  
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><p><strong>The Never-Ending Adventures of Barney Stinson<strong>

(or NEABS for short! It's gonna be legen-wait for it...)

Adventure One: Mind-blowing Introduction.

Okay, kids. Your dad likes to tell you these long, boring stories about how he met your mom. Really they're mostly about the stuff that happened _before_ he met your mom, cause let's face it—quiet family life with you guys, or HELLO, _Wing Man._ But I intend on being Ted's best friend for many more years to come, so I can't just come busting in on his story time with my "Oh, hey, you're leaving out one of the juiciest stories..." cause that would totally ruin his dad image, his self esteem, and... my thunder! ...dary. LEGENDARY. High five! (Yes, I'm there in spirit—just high five right there up in front of you, and a little to the right. You nailed it.)

So, as I was saying. I can't tell you guys all the amazing racy stuff. Partly because you're not old enough. Some of it, I'm not sure _I'm_ old enough for! What up?! But seriously. Much as I'm sure you can keep secrets, I'm just gonna write it here in this special journal that I've addressed to you guys and I'm keeping in my safe so you'll get it when I'm dead and Ted can't kill me. Cause mark me well, word. would. get. out.

Without further ado, by way of a mind-blowing introduction, here's adventure one. Enjoy, kids. Love, Uncle Barnstormer.

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

Cripes! what do I tell first? I finally get to tell all the awesome stuff that I was sworn never to tell on pain of death—cause I'm dead now. Hope I went out with a bang. Like literally! Fist bump. Ghost of Uncle Barney is hovering right there waiting for it. You got it, buddy. Where was I? Oh, yeah.

Lookit how organized I am, all chaptery and stuff. And my mom thought I had ADD! Silly mom.

So, I guess I'll pick an early one cause it's something I've been wanting to get out for a while. My psychiatrist would say I have unresolved tension... except I had to let that psychiatrist go. She was really a hooker playing psychiatrist with me, and THAT tension got resolved real fast! What can I say... I love someone who will lay me on a couch. (You can bump that fist again, man.) Your dad likes to be all organized and chronological... "spring of 2008" and "fall of oh-ten" ...yes, "oh-ten." This is why your dad was an architect, not a mathematician, RIGHT? Who needs temporal references? You'll get the gist.

But anyway... I hear that one of your favorite stories is Slapsgiving. You like to hear about Uncle Marshall walloping Uncle Barney at the end of the demoralizing countdown... and I get why Ted would present it that way. But seriously, you gotta cut me some slack. I mean, have you ever been slapped across the face by all the strength of a more-than-full-grown man like Marshall Eriksen? I think not. You have no clue the trauma, the... I'm getting ahead of myself. Dang, I wasn't going to get sidetracked like your dad always does. Oh well.

Well, the first slap did take me by surprise—the first of the five I got from the Slap Bet. But I figured I'd get one that day. Marshall was patient, but knowing he had four more to go, I knew he couldn't resist taking that first one quickly.

It didn't seem too bad. I figured they'd be over before long and it would be much better than ten in a row. But he waited so long for the second, I started to think—nay, to hope—that he had forgotten. And that was why he managed to surprise me with the second one, too. So then I was freaking out. I actually had nightmares about it. And then... the _countdown._ Never do that to someone unless you hate them. Really, really hate them. And even then, you probably shouldn't.

I confess (since I'm dead now and it doesn't matter), I was a wreck. A manly, fashionable wreck. The closer Thanksgiving got, the more freaked I got. Everyone knew what was coming... a turkey would get baked and a turkey would get slapped. I knew they were all laughing at me. With about a week to go, I'd have traded for the baking.

But did I _completely _fall apart? Why, no. I did what I usually did in nearly hopeless situations. I asked my best friend for some help. These are never my proud moments, but hell, I need to get out this "unresolved tension." Course, a good lay could get rid of that too, what up?! (Right here, buddy.)

I went to see Ted, and thank God, he was alone in the apartment. Hey, you know what? I'll tell it from your dad's point of view, because that's what you're used to. I'm sure I can guess what he was thinking and stuff. It'll be easy. Meh, on second thought I'll do the whole third-person omniscient thing. Wonder if I _will _be omniscient once I've crossed over. Legendary.

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

Ted was just hanging around his apartment, doing boring architecture stuff when his best friend Barney Stinson swaggered through the door. "Sup, Barney?" Ted asked.

"Oh, nothing," Barney answered casually, leaning against the back of the couch in a devil-may-care pose. He politely waited until Ted (with difficulty) found a stopping place in his mundane project.

"What?" asked Ted.

"Nothing."

"What? You didn't come out here to tell me nothing. What's going on?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if you'd seen Marshall's website."

"You started two sentences with 'oh.' Never good."

"Look who's paying close attention to my mannerisms! Sounds like someone read my blog on hero-worship. Ted, I'm so proud of you!"

Ted threw down his pencil. "What about the countdown?"

Barney's poise decreased by roughly ten percent. "He keeps calling it 'Slapsgiving' and the thing counts down the frickin' _seconds,_ Ted. I can't eat. I can't sleep. And if I eat _and_ try to sleep, I have the worst nightmares."

"Worse than the time you dreamed you banged your cousin?"

This gave Barney pause, but only for a moment. "That dream was rapturously enjoyable in comparison. Plus, the pain and embarrassment gradually dissipated when I woke up. But not so with _this _dream. Oh, no. The pain is merely postponed and the embarrassment prolonged!"

"You're being a total drama queen right now."

Barney threw himself on Ted's mercy. And his floor. He fell to his knees by Ted's chair and held up his hands in supplication. "Please, Ted, you have no idea what it's like! It hurts like hell, and now this clock thingy, ticking away the moments—the precious little moments—until I feel that bee-sting of a freight train impact again!"

"I take it back," Ted muttered. _"Now_ you're being a drama queen."

"I'm serious! You're not going to leave me to the minuscule mercy of that Eriksen brute, are you, Ted? For God's sake, I'm your best friend! Show a little pity."

"Actually, Marshall's my—"

Barney grabbed Ted by the front of his shirt. "PLEASE. I'm scared."

Ted stared at Barney and slowly the master of emotional manipulation began to see those eyes soften... (I'm the master of emotional manipulation and Ted's the eye-softening sap, in case you weren't sure.) He got out from behind his nerdy desk and helped Barney to stand. "Bring it in, buddy," he said kindly.

With a stifled sob, Barney caught Ted in a vice-like embrace. "I'm so scared," he said haltingly. "It's all I can think about. Don't let him hurt me, Ted. Please."

"There, there. Shh," Ted soothed. "You get through Thanksgiving and you're down three out of five. Before you know it, this will be all over."

Barney's voice was ninety percent choked now, but he still managed to rasp out intelligibly, "But what if I don't last that long? I think number three is gonna kill me!"

Then something terrible happened. Your Uncle Barney had gotten all teared up as part of the mercy play, and somehow it got a little out of control. Two tears spilled over simultaneously. He was able to catch the left one with his talented tongue (RESPECT), but his right cheek was pressed against Ted's neck, and if he tried the tongue catch on that side, some seriously embarrassing (and orientation-questioning) things might go down. So the only thing that went down was that tear, and it slid onto Ted's neck just after cooling enough to be noticeable...

"Dude, are you crying?"

"No!" Barney knew he had answered too quickly and too firmly, but he couldn't take it back now. He'd just have to trust that Ted would respect their friendship and save face for him.

"You are totally crying." Ted pulled back to look at Barney's face.

_Dammit!_ "Am not..." But it was pointless.

"Look, if it means that much to you, I'll talk to Marshall, but I doubt it will do any good."

"You can't tell him I put you up to it. And you can't tell him I was crying."

"You were crying."

"I was NOT crying." But it was pointless.

"I promise I won't tell him, okay?"

"How do I know you won't tell him?"

"Cause..." Ted got that shifty look he gets when he's trying to think up a story quick. "...you're my best friend?" He smiled the too-innocent smile.

"How do I know you won't tell him?" Barney repeated.

"I won't. I give you my word."

"Sorry, but I need something better than that."

"Like what?"

"I need dirt on you of equal value."

"Come on, Barney. I'm not about to start crying over nothing."

Barney was insulted, but he was also desperate. "Kiss me."

"What?" Ted's shock melted into humor. "Dude, for a second I thought you said 'kiss me.'"

"I did, and I won't say it again."

"Why the hell should I kiss you?"

"Why? I'll tell you why." Barney drew himself up to his full manly height. "Because no one gets in or out of this apartment until you give me insurance that you won't tell Marshall about what you saw here today," he said in a deep, threatening voice.

Just then, the front door opened and Robin came in, of all people.

"Hey, guys," Robin said. "Left my ring in the bathroom last night. Whatcha doing?"

"Nothing," the two men said together, and Barney noted that Ted looked at least as awkward as he felt.

Robin walked through to the bathroom and returned with her ring. Barney and Ted hadn't moved a muscle. She looked them over with mounting curiosity. Not curiosity about what it would be like to mount one of them, though there could have been some of that too, but mounting curiosity. That is, curiosity that was growing at a dangerous rate. Something had to be done.

"And the part where the storm trooper hits his helmet on the blast door," Barney improvised. "Classic."

Robin rolled her eyes. "How many times have you seen those movies, Barney?"

Ted, ever the epic wing man, followed Barney's lead. "Hey, those are good movies. And they give Barney something to think about besides picking up chicks."

Lamest line ever, but it seemed oddly to work.

"True," Robin conceded. She held up the ring she had forgotten the night before. "Well, found my ring. See you at Maclaren's later?"

"Yeah, sure," they responded.

When Robin closed the front door, Barney sprang across the room in a single bound and bolted the door. Then, composed, he turned back to Ted and repeated, "No one gets in or out of this apartment until you give me insurance that you won't tell Marshall about what you saw here today."

"Barney, I'm not going to kiss you."

"Why not? I mean, don't knock it till you try it—these lips are legendary."

"Sure, among the ladies..."

Barney sauntered back toward Ted, swinging his hips. "Yeah? So, you could notch a first in your belt, Mosby. The first male to experience... the Barnacle mouth."

Ted grimaced. "First, ew. Second, that's not a first I'd be proud of. Third, ew."

"But no one would ever know, right? Because I won't tell anyone if you don't tell anyone about... the other thing of which we shall not speak."

"You mean you crying?"

Barney closed the remaining distance between them and put a hand over Ted's mouth. "Hush." He pulled his hand away slowly and entwined Ted in his arms. "I'm breaking some of my own rules for you here, Teddy boy. You should be honored."

Ted's voice had gone up a little in pitch. "No, mostly creeped out right now."

"As my bro, I insist to be kissed. I need equal dirt to ensure your silence. That's the deal."

Ted's look of utter disgust suddenly turned to a blank expression. "Wait a sec. If we do this, will you give me a little feedback? Cause someone thinks I use too much tongue, and I totally think I use just enough."

Barney knew he had won. He smiled and pulled Ted closer. "Absolutely. I have taken it on myself to teach you how to live, my son. How to kiss should have been earlier in the curriculum, really. But if _someone_ would read my blog more often..."

"Oh, shut up! If we're gonna do this, let's do it."

"Okay, but no eye contact. Double the taboo of a Devil's Threeway."

"Agreed."

So, the best friends avoided eye contact as they moved in. The initial attempt lasted a mere moment.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa, bro," Barney said, making articulate little hand gestures for emphasis. "You are totally 'too much tongue guy.'"

Ted looked indignant, but Barney knew he wanted to learn. "Seriously? I was just getting started..."

"Exactly! You gotta lead in slow..." Barney brushed his lips against Ted's. "Give a little suggestion..." He slipped his tongue out to touch Ted's lip on the L in "little."

Like magic, Ted's lips parted slowly.

_My god boy, you're a natural beta,_ Barney thought proudly. _Wait. What the hell. I'm supposed to be teaching him to dominate. Meh, po-tay-to, po-tah-to._

"Then you go in and claim your territory..." Barney gently probed Ted's mouth, very subtly gaining more and more ground with each swipe.

Ted was melting. Barney could feel his friend's hands creeping up the back of his neck as the kiss deepened. Heavy breathing was becoming smothered gasps and tiny moans.

Barney pulled back slowly, giving Ted's mouth one last tiny flick of his tongue as they parted. He waited a few seconds before he let his eyes come back up to meet Ted's.

"Holy crap, Barney."

Involuntarily, Barney began a saucy half-smile at one corner of his mouth. _Oh yeah, daddy's got it on BOTH sides of the fence! _He nodded. "And that's how it's done. Now you know why the ladies can't stay away."

"I... I..." Ted stuttered. "I enjoyed that way too much."

Barney patted Ted's back. "Don't be ashamed, kid. Be proud. Many a man has wanted a piece of this for many a year, but you... are the first."

"I don't even know how to respond to that."

"Don't try." Barney put a finger to Ted's lips and backed away. "I've got the dirt I need; now you can talk to Marshall."

"Okay..." Ted frowned. "But you can't tell anyone about this, because it's equal dirt on you, too. I mean, you did three-quarters of the kissing there. How is this insurance for you?"

Barney froze. "Dammit! Why didn't I think of that? No, you know what? You'd be _way _more embarrassed about this than I would. It's good enough for me." He unbolted the door. "I'm gone. I was never here..." He opened the door to see none other than Marshall approaching.

"Oh, hey, Barney," said Marshall. "What're you doing here?"

Fighting a severe twitch in his eye, Barney skirted around Marshall, giving him as wide a berth as possible. "I was never here, I was never here," he chanted.

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

So, what happened next? Please, I can't be expected to write more than 3,000 words in a day! I'll get carpal tunnel. Besides, you need time to recover from this mind-blowing introduction. Yes, kids, your dad kissed a guy! No, your dad was kissed BY a guy. Me. Barnabus Stinson. Oh, yeah, Uncle Barney's still got it on both sides _and _on the _other _side! What up?! (Go for it, kid. You know you want to.)

I highly recommend that you don't read this whole book in one shot. You're gonna wanna make this last. So take a break and suit up! Daddy's home.

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><p><em>Well, what do you think? Should I keep writing? Have to say, this was fun to write, and I have a lot more ideas where that came from.<em>


	2. Those Three Little Words

_A/N: To the guest who said I nailed the Barney voice, thanks. Also, I don't know what you mean by satire... I wasn't really trying to comment on anything. I've only ever read one B/T story and it was kind of lame and very out of character, so if I one-upped that one somehow then maybe, but that's not why I started writing this. I also completely disagree with your Ted-dead-instead idea. (Yeah, cool rhyming. ^^) Though Barney kind of refuses to age, he will die one day, and I think he's much more likely to have epic schemes for his own death than he is to (inappropriate though he may be at times) start spilling scandalous stories to Ted's kids right after they lose their father. He's much more likely to pull a last-laugh-from-the-grave stunt._

_A/N: To everyone: Four reviews in two days says people are liking this, so here's another chapter. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>NEABS<strong>

Adventure Two: Those Three Little Words

Ted told me he actually told you guys about the "Broath" so you know about me tricking him and Marshall into kissing that one time. God, that was so funny. But anyway, you already knew that your dad had kissed a dude. Way to steal my thunder, TED. Hopefully you still found the last story funny. On to the next one.

I'm gonna tell you about a really dark time in my life. A really, _really_ dark time. So dark, it makes Michael Jackson's baby pictures look like _my_ baby pictures instead of kinda like my brother's baby pictures (we always suspected there was a relation there somewhere). So dark it makes Hershey's Dark look like Hershey's Cookies n Cream at best. So dark you could stick it where the sun don't shine and it would say "what a lovely view!" So dark... eh, you get the picture.

I'm talking about the time when Ted and I weren't speaking. Sure, he already told _his_ version. The version that makes him look good. And I've told you the version that makes me look... not so bad. But now you get the version of our reunion that includes all the stuff _neither_ of us wanted you to know. Cause embarrassing shit happens, okay? Don't judge.

So, your dad was super mad at me cause I banged your Aunt Robin. I'm sure you'll see the irony in that. Like irony times infinity. But I did feel bad, because I'd broken the Bro Code. I mean, that's serious stuff. (I know you get it, favorite nephew. *wink* Just ignore your sis rolling her eyes.) When you break the Bro Code, if you can't find dirt of equal magnitude on the bro that you've wronged, you're stuck doing penance and/or losing your bro forever. There are three things in life that can really hurt a guy. One, the loss of a long-loved tie. Two, the closing of a long-patronized strip club. And three, the parting of ways with a once-trusted, best-friend bro. Kids, this stung. It burned. It rotted me from the inside out. It was all I could think about for years... okay, so it didn't last years. But my mourning period was intense enough to cover several years' worth. There's no love—wait for it—like bro love. (Up top.)

Anyway, the only way out is for the bro to declare that you've paid your debt, or to forgive your indiscretion... or, you know... to kill yourself. So even after I raced over to the hospital in Ted's time of need, after I got *wince* hit. by. a. BUS... after the gang came to see me and I begged Ted to let us be friends again, after he said we were brothers and I felt all warm and gooey inside (which might actually have been due to internal injury, now that I think about it)—after ALL that... I realized he still hadn't said those three little words that... What? No, not _those_ three little words, ya knuckle-head. Geez, girl. Yeah, I know what I said, no love like bro love, but that's not the point.

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

I had a lot of rehab to go through, which meant a careful weeding out of the plain-Jane nurses until only the hotties were left. I did this by calculated conditioning. Anytime a fatty or plain-Jane was alone with me, I'd inexplicably lose control of my bowels. Anytime a hotty was alone with me, I'd tell her the tragic (and shockingly true) story of racing to the hospital because I'd heard that my best friend in the world had been in an accident. Little by little, the undesirables requested shift changes and ward changes... hell, I inspired so much change, Obama was also the first green president! Green with _envy!_ (Bump that fist. It's okay that Obama was before your time.)

So, I was with this one nurse one day... don't remember her name. We'll call her Nineteen. Not because that was her age (I wish... think she was in her early twenties) but because she was the nineteenth nurse/therapist assigned to me. She was the one who helped me with my range of motion after all the casts finally came off. I was telling her the true story of my accident while she lifted my arm higher and higher until it hurt like my bones were on fire. (But I was very manly about it, of course. Okay, I whimpered a little. But oh, the sympathy it got me.)

"And then I said, 'I know I wronged you, but if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, might we be friends again?'"

She gave me kind of a skeptical look. "You said that?"

I raised one eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Barney, people don't talk like that."

With a very great (and slow and careful) effort, I pulled my hand away from her and rested it on my heart. "This man does, Nineteen. This man... does."

She wasn't your average bimbo. (What? Why don't I remember her name, then? After two hundred fifty-something...? Please.) Anyway, she wasn't completely stupid.

"Come on, you didn't really say it like that, right? Cause I don't think I'd take an apology like that seriously."

"Okay, fine. I said something more along the lines of 'I'm sorry I broke the Bro Code. Can we please be friends again?'"

And then I got the response that is music to any player's ears: "Aww."

I was pleased. I put my hand back in hers and tried to keep the whimpering to a brave minimum.

"So, did he forgive you?"

"Well... yeah."

"Yeah? What did he say?"

"He said, uh... he said we were more than friends. We're brothers."

"Aww."

"Yeah. That Ted. He's a good guy."

"Has he been to see you since?"

"Well... he's been busy with this girl..."

"You should call him."

"Nah, I don't wanna bug him."

"But I'm sure he could spare you time for a visit."

"I'm doing fine. It's fine." _Wow, said fine twice in a row there. Lame. Course, I really am lame at the moment. Mind five!_

"Barney..." She touched my face, and I should have been psyched about the progress I was making, but for some reason I wasn't. And then she told me why. "You're crying."

"Psh, no I'm not," I said instantly... just before the tears spilled over. _Dammit!_

"It's okay." She wiped the tears off my face. "There's no shame in crying. I think only real, sincere men can cry."

In spite of how this was working to my advantage, my pride fought back. "It's not tears. It's just... sweat from the exercises." But it was pointless.

"We just started a couple minutes ago, and I've been doing all the lifting here. But don't worry—I won't tell anyone."

My pride gave up. "Thanks, Nineteen. You're really sweet."

(What do you mean, "what does this have to do with anything?" It's a good story! I can tell this however I want! I'm the pro. Pro bro. Bro pro? Nah, Pro Bro. Put it on my headstone.)

She patted my hair then (messing it up a little, to be honest, and my range of motion didn't allow me to fix it... it was maddening!) and went back to the therapy. "You really should call him, though."

"Okay, I will. As soon as I can hold a phone to my ear."

So, a week later, I called Ted and very painfully held the hospital phone to my ear. It was good to hear Ted's voice.

"Hey, Barney. How you doing?"

"Not how, brother. _Who. _Huh, huh? Phone five." I knew Ted didn't phone five, but to be fair, I didn't either. I just kinda weakly lifted the phone and my opposite hand to complete the gesture in spirit.

"You must be doing a lot better."

"Well, all Nineteen and I did was some pretty hardcore making out, but once I'm a little more mobile, it's going to be legen—wait for it...dary! _Legendary._"

"That's great, buddy. Glad you're... So, what were you calling about?"

"Oh, uh... nothin'. I mean... just, when I'm outta here, you're gonna help reintroduce me to society, right?" I winced at my own fumble. Why was it so hard to just say what I meant?

"Sure... like reintroducing a tiger into the wild."

"Niiiice. Hey, I was wondering. Can you... nah, it's not important."

"What is it? If you need me to do something, I got it." Ted faltered. "Uh-unless it's something devious, or sleeping with someone for you by proxy, or..."

"Ted, Ted, don't be silly. I—wait, did you say 'sleep with someone by proxy'? Theodore, Evelyn Mosby, you're a sick man. And a genius! No, but I was just gonna say, could you come see me sometime? You know, hospital caf food is like blah. 'Today do you want the pasta blah, or the soup blah?' Am I right?"

"Feel lucky. I remember eating at a hospital when I visited my grandpa with my folks... I think they've really improved the menu in the last twenty years. I hear ya, though... it's not the same as buying or making it yourself."

"Exactly."

"Anything in particular you want?"

"One voluptuous stripper with a side of low self esteem?"

"Anything they'd let me take into the hospital?"

"You can tell 'em she's my sister."

"Barney, I'm gonna hang up on you."

"Just a bagel, Ted. A real New York bagel with cream cheese. And any other hot buns you think are lookin' fine."

"Yup. Hanging up now. I'll get you a bagel."

So, later that day, Ted showed up with a bagel and cream cheese. It had been an excuse, but once I tasted it I realized how much I had missed real food.

"I need to call my caterer," I said around a mouthful of bagel. "A man can't go weeks without real food! It's ridiculous!"

Ted smiled. "So, how are you doing? Do you know how much longer you'll be in here?"

"I've got my staff narrowed down to three hotties: Sixteen, who brings me my appalling meals, doses my pain meds and checks my charts, Twenty-three, who changes my sheets and makes sure I get to the bathroom all right (whee-whee!) and Nineteen, who helps me work on circulation and range of motion. She's my favorite. Stick around and you'll see what I mean. Such a nice rack. You can see her gorgeous frame even through the scrubs, Ted. She's a goddess..."

"Uh-huh. Much as I'd love to sit here listening to you objectify a woman all day..."

I grabbed Ted's arm. "Don't leave me."

He shook me off. "Geez, relax. I'm not going to go without delivering number two." And then that wonderful, sweet bro got out the second bagel.

"Ohmygod! Ted, you're the best bro in the world!" I don't remember what kind it was, but it was a different kind from the first one, and I swear it was better. It was even still warm. Which begs the question, where was he keeping it? But anyway...

"So, you didn't exactly answer my question. When do you get to go home?"

"Soon, I guess. I can kinda do the zombie walk now, so it shouldn't be long. But I really don't want to get rid of my staff."

"One might say you have a... staph infection."

I blinked at him as he did his attempt at contagious laughter.

"Cause... you know, staph—"

"I got it, Ted."

"Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," I blurted out.

"What?"

"I know you said we're brothers, but that was just a way to avoid saying we're friends again. Hell, James and I are brothers, but that wasn't a choice. Is that what you're saying, Ted? You'll be my friend, but not by choice?"

"Barney—"

"And I said I was sorry, and you never... you never..." There was something in the air. Like thick dust or something. It was choking me and making my eyes water. (Shut up.)

Ted gently pried the half-eaten bagel out of my hand and set it aside. "Hey. Calm down, buddy. What's wrong here? What do you want from me?"

I sniffed. It must have been cold, too, cause my nose was running. (Shut up.) "I want a straight answer. Can we be friends again?"

"Yes," Ted said immediately, in his "I can't believe you need an answer to that, you knuckle-head" voice. It made me feel good.

"And... and... I told you I'm sorry for..." It was hard to say. I'd written the... I mean, my own ancestors had written the Bro Code themselves. It was humiliating. "I'm sorry for b-breaking the b-Bro Code."

"I know."

"I know you know! Ted, I just want to hear you say those three... little... words..."

Then he gave me the "Oh, that? Wait? Do you mean what I think you mean? I think I know... crap, I have to say something" look. "Oh, okay." He cleared his throat. "I..."

I waited expectantly.

"...Lll" He was dragging out an L. Which is more difficult than you'd think.

"Fff..." I prompted.

Suddenly realization spread over his face. A beautiful sight. "Forgive! ...you. I forgive you."

I dragged him down onto the narrow hospital bed and gave him a hug that probably hurt him a little, but nowhere near as much as it hurt me, with my limited mobility and tender limbs. "That's all I wanted," I gasped, tears leaking out everywhere. Okay, not everywhere; I'm exaggerating for effect. (It was a dramatic moment, okay?!)

"O-okay, okay. It's all right..." Ted rubbed my arm awkwardly. (Hey, be fair. You try to hug someone who's lying down and not make it awkward.) "I thought you knew I forgave you."

"I have been in _hell." _I spoke slowly and emphatically. (Only way I know how, bro. Exploding fist bump.)

"Um... I'm sorry?"

I squeezed him tighter, in spite of the pain it caused me... and probably him, too. "Please don't ever friend-breakup with me again."

"You acted so... carefree, like it didn't even bother you."

"That's the metal of a true bro. I bore my shame with honor."

"Uh... isn't that an oxymoron?"

I loosened my hold and looked around the hospital room. "Where?"

Ted laughed. Then he took my head in his hands. "Listen. We have been through too much together to let anything keep us apart. Whatever happens, we're bros for life. If it's good, we'll enjoy it together. If it's bad, we'll work through it together. Deal?"

"Deal," I said. I had this hot, squirmy feeling in my chest that I don't think was internal injury.

He stroked my face once, which was totally a manly gesture of affection and _not_ because there was one last rogue tear on my face. (Okay, fine. But it was only because I'm a "real, sincere" man.) He gave me back my bagel.

"I gotta get going, but I'll come again, okay? I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, I just..."

"I understand. I'll be okay now." I nodded stoically. "But seriously, please come again."

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

What do you mean, I didn't finish the last story? Okay, so there's a little more to the Slap Bet stuff... I just didn't want to talk about it all at once. It's kinda personal. And scary. And embarrassing. And scary. Sure, I love the idea of the delight it'll bring you guys, but for real. Scary. I had to take a break from writing it. It gives me nightmares. Scary nightmares. Picture Uncle Marshall as the devil. Scary.

But I promise I'll continue that one next time. You just hang in there, do some fun activity, chase a few of your peers down and jump 'em. Remember, make these stories last. And we'll pick up again soon. Oh, and you totally have to be together to read. No fair one of you getting ahead of the other.

All for now. Love you guys.

Scary.

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><p><em>Thus ends the second Adventure. ^^ Go for Barney! (That means leave a comment, kids.)<br>_


	3. The Center of Your Embrace

_Haven't gotten any feedback on chapter two yet, but I'm posting this one on faith that I'll get some soon. *wink*  
><em>

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><p><strong>NEABS<strong>

Adventure Three: The Center of Your Embrace (Subtitle: Celebration Devastation)

A little PS to the last adventure... You want more slap stuff? Geez, I'll get there. And no, I do not have ADD. You're silly, like my mom. Anyway, PS to the last one: I know that Ted really and truly forgave me because years later, when I confronted him about having an awkward moment with Robin when I was engaged to her, he never brought up the banging-Robin-shortly-after-Ted-broke-up-with-her incident. I was all "Dude, you violated the Bro Code" and he could have been like "Dude, you violated it worse, first!" But he didn't. He acted like it never happened. That, my friends, is a true bro. His forgiveness is forever.

Okay, fine. After the begging for intervention and the kiss for silence, Ted procrastinated a while, but he did eventually talk to Marshall on my behalf. In the glorious third person again, here's what happened next.

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

Barnabus Stinson (the Awesome) had just shown a gullible blonde out not two minutes ago, so when someone knocked on the door of the Fortress of Solitude, he suspected an unpleasantly emotional scene was about to unfold. (Which, it was, but not the one he expected.) He stepped carefully up to the door and looked through the peep hole.

It was not the blonde, but Ted Mosby who stood outside. Relieved, Barney let him in.

"Hey, Ted. What's going on?" Barney asked pleasantly.

"Oh, not much. Just... you know..."

"For god's sake, Ted, did you talk to Marshall yet?!"

Ted jumped. Barney always enjoyed seeing Ted jump.

"Yeah... I did." Ted regained his composure. Some of it, anyway.

"And? What did he say?"

Ted sighed. "I tried, but he's not gonna budge. He's keeping the countdown."

"You must have done something wrong. What did you say?"

"Well, I didn't want him to think you put me up to it, so I told him I thought he was taking things too far and he ought to back off a little."

"And what did he say?"

"He told me to remember all the stupid tricks you'd played on us over the years."

"What did you say?"

"I said he had a point."

"What?!"

"...But that this was a little different and kinda twisted and not at all friendly."

"What did he say?"

"He said you could take it; you'd said so yourself."

"Well, that's true."

Ted and Barney both nodded.

"Anyway... at least you can relax until the end of the countdown. You know exactly when he's going to..."

Barney grabbed Ted in a grip Superman couldn't shake. "That doesn't help, you moron—that makes it worse! The dread of knowing it's coming... knowing _when_ it's coming... I can't relax for one moment. Not until it's over. The day will be completely ruined. All days leading up to it will be... mostly ruined. Did score today."

"Already? The sun hasn't even gone down."

"I know."

"Dude, that hot blonde I passed on the way up here?"

"I know."

They both chuckled in appreciation... which was a little weird, considering Barney was still clinging to Ted as if for dear life (the only reason Barney hadn't asked for a high five).

Barney sobered mercurially. "Seriously, though. I don't know what to do."

Ted patted his back awkwardly. "It'll be okay."

"You'll all laugh at me."

"Well... it'll be hard not to."

"You'll make a bunch of slap jokes about me." Barney's voice was slipping up in pitch.

"We don't mean any harm by it. It's just... funny." Ted was fighting off the giggles now, and Barney could tell.

"It is not! What kind of best friend are you, anyway?"

"Sorry... I'll tell you what. After everyone goes home, slash to bed, we'll make cocoa and take it up on the roof where no one can bother us."

"What good will that do?"

"It'll give you something to look forward to after the slap is over."

It seemed like a poor consolation. But the more he thought about it, the more Barney thought it could at least help. "With marshmallows?" he asked.

"Of course."

"And... and a candy cane in the mug?"

"Little early for candy canes..."

"Please?"

Ted grinned. "Okay. And a candy cane in the mug."

Barney squeezed him. "Thanks, Ted. I'm sorry I said you were a bad friend."

"Uh... you didn't."

"I'm sorry I thought you were a bad friend."

"Um. Okay." Ted rubbed Barney's back. "Everything will be okay. I've got you."

A few more seconds went by.

"Uh, Barney?"

"Yeah?"

"Getting a little claustrophobic, here."

"Really? It's okay, Ted. I've got you—there's nothing to be scared of."

"No, I mean... that's what I'm scared of. This small, dark place that is the center of your embrace."

Barney let go to give Ted an appreciative look. "Good rhyme, bro. Up top."

Ted accepted the high five. "Thanks. Well... I'll see you on Slapsgiving—" Ted stopped short, but it was too late.

Barney turned a murderous glare on him. "Et tu, _Ted?_" He said, voice full of poison.

"Sorry it just slapped, er slipped out..." Ted lunged for the door and quickly let himself out.

When he was gone, Barney went to his command center and reviewed the footage of their encounter. Ted had totally made those slap references on purpose! On a separate note, the embrace had lasted almost a full two minutes. Yeah, that was awkward.

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

So, Slapsgiving came, Lily declared that there would be no slaps that day, then she changed her mind at the last moment. Marshall laid a cruel wallop across Barney's face, then played and sang a _song_ he wrote for the occasion... (Who does that? Who writes a song for petty little triumphs in their life? Okay... besides me?)

Things wound down, people went their separate ways... and Ted went to the kitchen to make cocoa. He'd gotten a special dark chocolate kind and opened a fresh bag of mini marshmallows. He even remembered the candy canes.

"Grab your coat, buddy."

Barney did as he was told and climbed out the window ahead of Ted. Then he held the two large mugs while Ted climbed out after him. It was crazy-cold on the roof. Cold enough to harden the nipples on a sixty-five-year-old fatty wearing an overcoat. But bundled up as they were, and holding the steaming mugs of cocoa, the frigid air seemed fresh and crisp, rather than lung-crystallizing.

"You okay?" Ted asked.

"Yeah," Barney answered, mainly because it was the manly thing to do.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Yeah."

They blew on their cocoa and took tentative sips, trying not to burn their tongues.

"At least that's three down," Ted said after a little while. "Only two to go."

"Yeah."

"Barney..." Ted set his mug down and tugged at Barney's arm. "Have you heard a word I said?"

"Yeah."

"You're just saying 'yeah' to everything I say. Are you tuning me out?"

Barney shook his head.

Ted then knew he had cause for worry. He prized the mug from Barney's fingers and set it next to his own. "Here, let me see." He tilted Barney's chin with his fingertips so he could scrutinize his friend's face in the glow of nearby lights. "Well, it's a little redder than your other cheek..."

"It is cold out," Barney acknowledged.

"Yeah." Ted ran his fingers lightly over the inflamed area, causing Barney to hiss in a breath. "Sorry. Still hurts pretty bad, huh?"

Shrug.

"Come here; you need a hug."

"I'm fine," Barney declared, even as he latched onto Ted.

"I know Marshall's creeping you out with this thing..."

"Eh," Barney said, trying to sound careless.

"...and he is putting a lot of force into it..."

Carefree shrug.

"...and we are getting a big laugh out of it..."

Hurt silence.

"But you're going to be okay. I wouldn't let anybody really hurt you. Got that?"

Sniffle and nod. "Ted?"

"Yeah?"

"My hands are cold."

Ted backed off and gave Barney's mug back to him. The cocoa had cooled enough for slow, steady sipping. They slurped quietly for a while, pausing to stir with the candy canes and look out over New York. The rich, hot liquid warmed them pleasantly.

At last, Barney tipped his mug back, finished the slightly grainy bit at the bottom and crunched up what was left of his candy cane. "Thanks," he said. "This was a good idea."

"You're welcome. Let's go down and get you a cab."

"On Thanksgiving? Please. It's okay, I have a guy. He can have someone here in five minutes."

"Okay."

Ted was glad to see Barney more like himself again. He took the mugs straight to the sink and washed them out, knowing that cocoa was a bitch to clean once it hardened. By the time the mugs were dried and put away, Barney's ride had arrived.

Barney was back to his normal gusto. On the sidewalk, he waved to Ted on the steps and called, "Happy Thanksgiving, bro!"

"Happy Thanksgiving," Ted answered.

And Barney never feared another slap, knowing that Ted would be there for him afterwards.

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

Okay, fine... the exploding suns thingy did freak me out quite a bit. But I wanted to end the story nicely. Now, another break from the whole slap story. What's that? You want to know who the blonde was? Well... I suppose I can tell you the play. Cause you know... one of you might need to know one day. *cough that sounds a lot like "Luke"*

**The Celebration Devastation**

The Celebration Devastation is a play that anyone can complete. However, it helps if you have a sweet pad and excellent taste in suits.

STEP ONE: Setting

It's near a major holiday. Dress up sweet and sharp and head to your favorite bar where you will order a gentlemanly drink. That's not a beer, people. That's not a girly drink, people. That's not a get-me-drunk-fast drink, people. Something classy like old scotch, not a double.

STEP TWO: Bait

Sit in a corner looking forlorn. Nurse your drink slowly. When a desirable target is in your vicinity, look particularly shy and vulnerable. Take out your wallet and look at a photo, preferably of a very sweet-looking girl that was probably your best friend's ex. Look tragically sad, but don't cry.

STEP THREE: Hook

When a desirable target comes over and says something like "Hey, you look lonely; mind if I sit here?" you say, "Oh... sure, that's all right." You know, like you're not really into her and all distracted. She'll say something like "What's got you so down?" and you'll say, "I don't want to burden a stranger with my troubles." Like most girls, she's probably a cheap ho, so she'll say something like, "Tell you what: my friends say I'm a good listener. So I'll let you buy me a drink, and then we won't be strangers anymore, okay? And you can tell me all about it." So you ask her what she'll have and (this is important) _no matter what drink she says_, you say "Oh, god. It's strange that you like (fill in the blank)." Take out the picture of the cute girl and show it to her. "That was my (insert name here)'s favorite." The name isn't important—the _my_ is important. She'll pick up that past-tense hint and ask you what happened to her. Here's what you tell her:

"We met at the (adorable-sounding place of business such as...) veterinary clinic where she works. My dog Brover was sick and she made him all better. It was a miracle. And after I met her, it was just one miracle after another. I couldn't believe she'd just finished vet school. She was such a pro. And so sweet and funny..." Stretch it out a good while. Keep talking in halting sentences (but don't cry) until she interrupts with the inevitable...

"So, what happened to her?"

STEP THREE: Reel

"It was just the other day. We were going to drive up to (homey-sounding place, such as...) Cleveland to spend (holiday such as...) Thanksgiving with her folks. I was going to meet them for the first time. It was going to be a... big family celebration." Here, you can begin to get choked up and show signs of imminent tears. "My mom has other plans, and my dad isn't around... I had to grow up without him." If she isn't holding at least one of your hands by now (if not something under the table, am I right?), it's time to say that you've made some plans with your friends and maybe that will cheer you up. Then you can get away fairly easily and go to your second-favorite bar to try again. But this play nearly always works.

Tell her you were going to leave in the morning to spend the week at the girlfriend's parents' house, but tragically, she was killed by a (insert likely scenario of the workplace you chose, such as...) rabid dog she was trying to save. "Now instead of a Thanksgiving celebration, I'll be attending her funeral." And here's where you break down, anywhere from head-in-hands-with-sniffles to head-on-table-open-sobbing. She should be all over you now.

As she tries to comfort you, choke out something about how lonely it's been without her. "Just the thought of one more night without her... I don't know how I can pull myself together to meet her parents after all that's happened." Gauge her response and reel her in slowly. Within another drink or two, she'll either be offering for you to stay at her place, or asking if you want her to go home with you.

STEP FOUR: Net (Subtitle: Bang, bang, bangity bang bang!)

From there, it should be easy. Avoid most of the "Nice place you have" small talk by keeping the conversation on her: how sweet she is, how rare it is to meet a stranger who really cares about people, et cetera. Whatever you do, keep gently steering toward more and more intimacy.

Note: If you want a wild, crazy whirlwind lover for the night, this is not the best choice. The Celebration Devastation play is for quiet, long-drawn-out intercourse, so use sparingly.

Note Two: If for some reason you _need_ a cuddly partner and no holiday is handy, you can substitute the dead girlfriend's birthday for the holiday. Problem solved. However, national holidays tend to garner extra sympathy because they resonate personally with the target's own fond feelings about said holiday, whereas some other bitch's birthday really may not stir her at all.

And that's how it's done! Suit up, my nephew! Unless I miss my guess, someone's going out on the town tonight. Favorite Uncle Five!

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><p><em>Go for Barney.<br>_


	4. Just Let This Happen

_The last chapter had a review within an hour of posting. Made me want to do Barney's she's-not-pregnant happy dance. xD This one is based on a clip from the season five blooper reel. Enjoy; read and review!  
><em>

_A/N: A certain reviewer left a disapproving review because of the insinuations of Barney's cheating on Robin in this chapter. What they failed to remember is that Barney is a compulsive liar, he exaggerates constantly, and he even said at the beginning of this chapter that it may not be a true story. However, to reassure that pesky reader (since they reviewed anonymously, I couldn't pm them to clear this up), I made Barney just a tiny bit more uncharacteristically honest even though I hate having to spell things out for people who can't read between the lines. So this is the re-posting of the chapter._

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><p><strong>NEABS<strong>

Adventure Four: Just Let This Happen (Subtitle: Fett-gasm)

Remember when your dad took that teaching position? He told you about having a nightmare and waking up frantic to find me in his room looking for condoms. Okay. Okay. Yeah, c'mon. Funny, but c'mon. Like... you wake up, you're for some reason not surprised to see me, I swipe your condoms and leave, and that's all you have to say about that little incident? C'mon.

We interrupt this program to say that I've had a genius idea! I'm going to include one false story in this retelling of my adventures. That's right, from here on in, one of the following stories is a fake! I'll let you know much further down the line, but not at the very end of the book, because you'd be tempted to skip to the end. No, after a few more adventures I want you both to guess. And you should place a slap bet on it. Then I'll reveal the fake. And now, back to our program!

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

This was a dark time in my life. So dark it made... wait, I've done the darkness comparisons before... Adventure Two. Okay, you know the darkness of my life when your dad wasn't speaking to me? Well that was the no-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel kind of darkness. This here, this was a whole new brand of darkness. This was "Wake up in the morning, go to wink at yourself in the mirror and find the thing winking back at you is something you hoped never to see in a dark alley, let alone see up close, let alone become." That's how dark it was.

I was hooking up with your aunt Robin, but of course I didn't want to call myself her boyfriend. Sure, she was one of the very, _very_ few girls I ever did it with more than once, but to me that just meant I'd finally found a... (You guys are all grown up now; you won't be mad at me for language, right? Well, too bad, cause I'm beyond your reach now! Huh-burn!) I'd finally found a fuck buddy. When my plays didn't go so great or I was feeling low, or I was feeling bored, or... OR... she was there. I didn't have to go out trolling—I had a major catch just waiting for me in Ted's apartment!

Since this was such a dark time for me, those OR times were happening a lot, but that doesn't mean I didn't have any ERA's. E. R. A. Extra-Robin Activity. I was trying to convince myself that I didn't want to be her boyfriend, that the "relationship" was all about sex and not at all about love. So, I continued to try to find other things that satisfied me. I searched for hotter girls, more interesting girls, tougher girls, more creative girls, more dependent girls, more... uh, you get the picture.

To be honest, the search often didn't go very well. Somewhere in the night between the starting line and the leaving while she was in the shower, the girl would say or do something that reminded me of Robin and I'd feel guilty. I'd try to rationalize it. _Why am I feeling guilty? I've made no commitments. I haven't put a ring on anyone's finger. I don't have a _girlfriend. _I have__ a stand-by fuck buddy._ Usually, the rationalization worked, at least long enough to finish. What? Okay, fine, it didn't work long enough to finish _with another girl._ Disappointment City.

One night, I was this close... oh, you can't see. Well, imagine I'm holding my fingers really close together. I was _this close_ to bagging a gorgeous Italian brunette, when she pulled her hair back and it reminded me of the way Robin messes with her hair whenever there's a macho guy around being all tough and hockey-player-ish. It ruined me for this girl. I couldn't stop thinking that I already had this girl in the bag, only without any of the work—all I had to do was go back to Ted's place and she was right there, just without all the maddening messing around first. So, even though things were going well, Barney Stinson walked away from this one.

I hurried back to Ted's. I was actually inside and about to go to Robin's door when I realized I had left my condoms in my coat, and left my coat at the bar. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Risk it? No. No way. (If ONLY I had known Robin couldn't conceive, it never would have been an issue! But then you wouldn't be getting this story.) Well, maybe Ted had some condoms. Doubtful. Ted rarely scored. On the other hand, that should mean that he pathetically keeps a large stash just in case, right? Optimistic, I crept into Ted's room and began rummaging around the bed area.

Ted was shifting in his sleep, moaning a little, but as soon as I was sure it wasn't an erotic dream, I ignored him. I won't bore you with all the random crap I found here and there in his room. I'll just say this: Ted may not have still been sleeping with a nightlight... but he still owned one. Possibly a backup in case of recurring nightmares, or pathetic hopefulness for a low-light romantic setting... It _was_ a Boba Fett night light, so it would have turned me on. I started wondering if I could smuggle it into Robin's room with me, but my thoughts were interrupted by Ted violently coming awake.

He gasped in obvious fright, rolled over and said, "Oh, god! Barney, it was awful. I was teaching..."

"Shh," I interrupted. I knew it was a long shot, but on the off chance that he was lucid for a moment, I needed to get to the vital information. "Ted, now's not a good time. Where do you keep your condoms?"

He didn't answer at first, so I continued rummaging, still not sure whether the night light was coming with me. It would be hard to get it out of the room if Ted stayed awake.

Then a timid voice said, "W-what are you gonna do to me?"

It took a second for that to register. Then it took another second to decide how to react. There were four possibilities. One: Run with it. Come on, no matter how straight a person is, everyone's curious. *chuckle* We know, everyone is. *cough* But there's no need to go on about how we ALL know this phenomenon. *clears throat* Anyway. Two: Dismiss it. I was kind of annoyed and in a hurry. Three: Laugh hysterically, then go about my business. Laughing at Ted—always a good time. Four: Scare the crap out of him. Ted-baiting was once in the running to become an Olympic sport. True story.

"Relax, buddy. I just want to know where they are for future reference." Lies. Unless you count a few minutes from now as "the future." "You know... just in case."

"Uh... um... I..." he stuttered, obviously still overwrought with his dream and disoriented at discovering me in his room in the middle of the night.

"Don't hurt yourself," I said. "Concentrate. Con...doms." I mouthed it slowly, hoping that would get the thought across.

"Ah... I think there are still some in my sock drawer..."

I patted his head. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I knew he hated it when people touched his hair. Even more than I do. But seriously, it's not like he was going anywhere at that hour. I rummaged in his dresser, my fingers instinctively finding the plastic in the sea of cotton. I took them back to his nightstand. "Here we go. Now, scoot over. Tell me about your dream."

Whereas he had been calming down, now I could tell Ted was again preparing to freak out. Perfect.

"Uh... I thought..."

"Scoot," I insisted.

He scooted. I climbed into his bed and pulled his covers up to my chin. It did bother me that I wasn't dressed for bed and this wouldn't be good for my suit, but it would be worth it. At least I'd taken my jacket off when I came into the apartment.

He was a royal mess. I pretended to listen to his dream. I could listen and critique properly when he told the rest of the gang the next day. For now I played the consoling role, making supportive little sounds and one-word comments. Fooled him completely. In the meantime, I very sneakily got closer and closer to him. Unconsciously, he tried to keep some space between us, backing away little by little. By the time he got done telling me about the dream, we were both on the far side of the bed and he had nowhere to go.

"I wouldn't let it worry me," I told him. "It's just a dream, right?" I put my arm around him.

This unnerved him visibly. He shifted awkwardly. "I know, but..." And then he launched into all these fears of how the dream could be prophetic in a way and blah, blah, blah. As he wound down, I interrupted again in a soothing voice.

"Shh, take it easy. Don't let a little nightmare get the best of you." I rubbed his arm, making him cringe. "You're Ted Mosby. You're the captain of your fate. That's your classroom. You'll decide what happens there, right?"

"Yeah, I guess..."

"Guess, nothing! Some people might think you should handle things this way, or that way, but if you want to do something unconventional—" I slid my hand past his arm and onto his ribcage. "—who are they to criticize? Rules are made to be broken. You go in there, and you do things however the hell you want. Why? I'll tell you why." He was breathing kind of heavy at this point. I stroked my thumb slowly up and down on his chest. "Because you're at your peak, man. You're young, handsome, strong, intelligent, bookish—you've got everything going for you!"

"I... I do," said the schmuck eating up my attention.

"That's right! So, you're gonna go in there and do what?"

"Whatever the hell I want."

"Right! That's my boy!" And I laid one on him. However surprised he was, I think a part of him knew a kiss was coming. And the hilarious thing? He didn't fight it. Sure, he squirmed a little, but I attribute that to his continuing confusion and not at all to any sort of aversion. He could have slid off the far side of the bed if he'd really wanted to get away.

"B...Barney?"

I shushed him again, pulling him into a doubly awkward hug (doubly awkward because we were both lying down). He only struggled for a second. Then he was kind of overlapping me in my arms, his face squashed against my neck, his shoulder up in my face... he was wearing a soft tee shirt that smelled surprisingly good.

Every time he started to say something, I quieted him. It was way too easy. I wondered how far I could get. I nuzzled his neck, he started to freak, I shushed him. I stroked his hair, he started to protest, I shushed him. I rubbed his back, he squirmed, I gave him a whispered, "It's okay. Just let this happen." But that last part was apparently going too far, because he started struggling for real.

"Barney, what... what is this?"

"Hey, calm down," I said with a reassuring chuckle. "It's okay, buddy." I wasn't sure how to regain the ground I'd lost, but I gave it a good try. I attempted to bring him back into the cuddle, but he wasn't having it.

"No, Barney... what's gotten into you? Did something happen tonight? Why are you doing this?"

I knew there was no way I'd get any further, so I sat up. "Well, Ted, the truth is..." I turned an evil grin on him. "HA! I had you completely fooled! And you were _liking it,_ weren't you?"

"What? No... no, I wasn't..." The poor guy was so red I could see it in the dark. Heat was coming off him like a waffle iron.

"Totally liking it! Huh-burn! You know what really burns? Your face! Hashtag BURN! Hashtag Best Prank Ever! Hashtag Stinson rocks!"

"I will kill you."

"Oh yeah, baby, come ahead with the S and M stuff, I like it that way!" I laughed maniacally.

He hit me with a pillow. "If you tell anyone about this, for real, I will _never_ speak to you again."

That wouldn't have scared me except for that previous dark time in my life. I remembered what it was like when Ted wasn't speaking to me, and it really made me want to curl up in the fetal position. But I couldn't show him how much it scared me. "Oh, calm down," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I won't tell anyone... just consider it an I.O.U." And I chuckled my mob boss chuckle.

Ted groaned and rubbed his head. "Just get out of here. Don't come in my room in the middle of the night."

"Oh, after tonight, I have no need to come again," I growled sexily. (I said it was a dark time in my life.) I retrieved a couple of condoms from the nightstand, slipped the Boba Fett night light around in front of me and went to the door. "Sweet dreams," I said in my sweetest tone. (A very dark time.)

If you get grossed out by too much information, you might want to skip this next little bit. (And come back later to read it properly when your sibling isn't here, am I right? *wink*)

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

"Barney, is that you?"

"Yeah, I just came by to have sex."

"What time is it?"

"I dunno... midnight or something."

"Is that a night light?"

"Think of it as mood lighting."

"I have to be up early tomorrow."

"I'll make it quick—you're already awake."

Robin sighed. "I wish you wouldn't take me for granted. I mean, it's great and everything, but I was planning to get a decent sleep tonight. You can't just invite yourself over whenever the hell you want..."

I crawled onto her bed, up her body and found her mouth. Her protests disappeared in a frenzy of kissing. Soon she was tugging my tie off and my nimble fingers made quick work of my buttons. Her hands were all over me and I was all over her.

She'd gone to bed in her underwear and one of those long tee shirts. I shoved the shirt up her body and got in a good honka-honka before pulling down her undies and going down on her. She got pretty damn loud then. We probably woke Ted up again. That bed was rocking—the way she was arching and throwing her head around and... (Hey, I warned you. You could have skipped this and just let it go. It's your own fault!)

When I came up she'd pulled the shirt off completely and I settled over her, making my way in slowly. I cannot begin to describe the colorful language coming out of your aunt Robin's mouth. I couldn't understand most of it, but I liked to hear it. When I could reach I pressed my face into her breasts, kissing and sucking. She ran her hands over my neck and grabbed a fistful of my hair at one point.

I noticed she kept glancing at the night light, as if she thought there was something more to it. Finally, she gasped out, "Oh! I thought it was like a mailbox or something... that's Boba Fett, isn't it?"

My god, I came so hard. I rode it out and she finished right after. As my vision came back I rolled over and blinked at the ceiling, panting for a while. Then I said, "Yup. That's Boba Fett."

"Cool."

She lifted her forearm, elbow resting on the bed. I reached up to slap her hand and our arms fell back to the bed together.

"Good night, Barney."

I zipped my pants and pulled on my shirt. "Night, Robin. See you tomorrow."

I nearly headed for the window out of habit, but then I remembered my jacket hanging up by the apartment door. _Oh yeah... I don't have to sneak out a window. Right._ I made my retreat and went home for the rest of the night, pondering my two legendary encounters of the evening.

The next time I went back to Robin's room with her, the night light was still in her wall socket.

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So, what play was I using on the Italian brunette? That will have to wait for the next chapter. You probably want to hear something about Aunt Lily and Uncle Marshall too; I'll try to think of something juicy to tell you about them. For now, be awesome. Stinson Out.

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><p><em>Go for Barney!<br>_


	5. Enjoying the View

_A short installment for you, but I think it's a good one.  
><em>

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><p><strong>NEABS<strong>

Adventure Five: Enjoying the View

I'm pleased to say that after the night recounted in the last story, I came out of that dark place, that constant battle between my roving spirit and my confusing loyalty to Robin. I chose to be faithful to Robin deliberately, instead of just because I felt guilty. I thought it was just an act for the rest of the gang, but I found to my shock that I felt much more free that way. I had expected it to feel like a ball and chain... and not the cool kind that goes well with bondage scenarios. *wink* I started staying overnight more and even letting her stay over at my place...

Anyway, back to the juicy stuff. I promised to tell you the play I was trying on that Italian chick.

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**The FLAMING JACKAL**

Excellent for on-the-fly play, the Flaming Jackal needs no special wardrobe or accessories.

STEP ONE: Setting

Out and about in the city, wearing a dapper suit, you spot your target without her seeing you. Observe which direction she is heading, then run around a building, or an entire block if necessary, to come at her from the opposite direction.

STEP TWO: Bait

This is make-or-break. Normally the weighty part of the encounter comes much later, but not so in the Flaming Jackal. Plow into her head-on, taking you both down to the pavement. Try not to break any bones on either of you, or to damage your suit. Apologize profusely in a very anxious manner...

"Oh god, I am so sorry... are you hurt? Let me help you up." Look at your watch. "Oh my god... I... here, can you walk? The bar's right here; let's get you inside. So sorry."

Take her inside, or at least away from prying eyes, and make a fuss over her. Look nervous and check your watch until she asks what your hurry was.

STEP THREE: Hook

Tell her you can't tell her what your hurry was. "I know it sounds crazy, but... you seem like a nice girl. I just can't get you involved." Girls are curious. They can't stand not to know stuff. She'll pester you, trying to gain your trust. Finally, you can give her the line: "Okay, I think I can trust you. My brother's been kidnapped. If I go to the police, they'll kill him. I'll pay anything to get him back, but the company I work for is tied up in a legal dispute and my funds are frozen until tomorrow. I have to explain this to the kidnappers—they expect payment tonight. I was trying to find a payphone because if they see my number calling they won't answer."

She'll suggest you use her phone. Look shocked. "But that could put you in so much danger! I couldn't ask that of you. I don't even know you." She'll assure you that she's not scared of the kidnappers, and that since the trouble will all be over tomorrow, she's willing to risk it.

STEP FOUR: Reel

Make the call in front of her; leave the message on your work phone's voice mail. The dialogue should go something like this: "It's Stinson. No, don't hang up! I have a counter-proposition for you. You want a million dollars for my brother tonight. I'll give you two million if you do things my way." Pause. "I can't get the money until tomorrow morning. But first thing, as soon as the bank opens I'll go down and withdraw the money in cash. I'll take it straight to the location you chose. Once I get a call from my brother saying he's safe, I'll leave the area." Longer pause. "There's just one more thing. James must never know that I paid the ransom. Tell him some excuse for letting him go, but don't tell him I paid, or he'll feel indebted to me. For double the money—promise you won't tell him. Swear on your honor as a Flaming Jackal." Very long pause. "Wise decision. If all goes to plan, I won't be in touch again."

Hang up and tell her you're going to erase the call from her history (in case she gets some nutty idea to try the number and gets your work phone... yikes.) for her protection. Thank her and tell her she's the bravest woman you've ever met.

STEP FIVE: Net

Now you have nothing to do but wait until morning. You wish you didn't have to spend this time alone... you're sick with worry. She'll likely invite you back to her place. Tell her she's done so much for you already, you couldn't ask anything else. But gradually, let her persuade you. You can tell her about how you used to be part of this Flaming Jackal mob and that you jumped out because you didn't want your little brother caught up in that life, and then he got caught up in it anyway... as much or as little back story as you like. Bottom line: you used to be a bad boy, but you're an angel now. And you got it! Gang-banger bang, bangity bang bang!

How far did I get that last time? I'd gotten her inside the bar and told her about the kidnapping. I was all set to make the call when she did the thing with her hair and I was screwed. Only not literally. Dammit. It's just as well, though... I'm glad I didn't cheat on Robin, but it was awkward to get out of it convincingly.

I thought of the perfect thing to tell you about Aunt Lily. You remember that one time in the restaurant when we made the Duck Tie bet? Well, that wasn't the first time I saw Lily's boobs. Everyone else thought so, but this was one of the few secrets Lily had kept for years and years. Of course, it was the only time I saw them in their enlarged pregnancy state, more's the pity.

This goes way back, waaaaaay back to the time before Robin was such a tight member of the group, before Marshall and Lily were married. No ring no thing, right? Okay, I can feel your future disapproving stares on me. Cut it out.

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Barney had had a very late night liaison that kept him out much later than he cared to make his way home. Instead, he used the spare key Ted had given him to get into the apartment above Maclaren's. He draped his jacket, shirt and tie over the back of the couch, pulled an afghan over himself and went to sleep. He was so tired that he slept through both Ted and Marshall eating breakfast and leaving early in the morning. He found out later that the guys had made many a joke at his expense while he slept.

He also slept through Lily, oblivious to his presence, stumbling through to the bathroom completely naked. (The things you miss when you're deep asleep, people!)

However, he woke up before she came out. It wasn't too late... a little after nine or so. Technically, Barney was supposed to be at the office already, but no one would realize he wasn't there until at least ten, maybe eleven. He stretched and got up, letting the afghan slide to the floor. He wandered out to the kitchen to find that the coffee pot was cooling and almost empty. (The selfish bastards!) He poured what was left into a mug and stuck it in the microwave. Then he headed for the bathroom.

Just as he reached for the handle, the door opened and there stood Lily wearing nothing but a towel. The towel was wrapped around her hair.

The reactions of the two people began the same (a scream) but ended very differently. Lily jumped back, turned away from the door, dragged the towel out of her hair and began trying to creatively wrap it around her whole body (but it was a smallish bath towel) while attempting to close the door.

Barney, on the other hand, planted himself in place, eyes honing in on the pleasant curves before him, foot firmly blocking the door from closing.

"Barney!" Lily screamed, "What the hell are you doing here?!"

After a short consideration, he answered, "Enjoying the view?"

"Turn around!"

"Turning around," Barney said dutifully, but remaining in place.

"SHUT THE DOOR!"

"Shutting the door." Still in place.

Lily had succeeded in getting the towel to stay wrapped around her lower half. She was fairly well-endowed for a smallish girl, so she couldn't very well cover herself with her arms, hold up her towel and close the door at the same time. Her voice became menacing. "Barney Stinson, you close this door right now, or I will make you _pay."_

Barney scoffed. "You're in no position to make threats here."

Somehow she managed to hold up the towel with her elbows while cupping her breasts. She turned around slowly, with a withering stare.

"Tell you what, Lil. I'll close this door and walk away. We'll never speak of it again. All you have to do is—up top." Barney held out his hand for a high five, eyes fixed on her bust. "Right here, sweetheart."

"No, you'll close that door and walk away and never speak of it again whether I high-five you or not, because if you don't, I'll tell Marshall you tried to have your way with me. And then he'll kill you."

Marshall was ordinarily a very nice guy. Sweet, in fact. Too nice. But god, when he was jealous and protective there was no reasoning with him or stopping him, and Barney knew it. "Okay," he said in rather a higher-pitched voice.

"Also... you have a black Sharpie mustache."

Barney covered his mouth in surprise. _Those dirty scoundrels! _He stepped back and closed the door. He forgot about the coffee in the microwave, instead getting dressed quickly and heading to the door.

Unable to resist one last attempt, he opened the door and slammed it without going out.

"GET OUT!" Lily's voice shrieked at him.

"Aw, crap." Barney went out for real this time, consoling himself with the brief glimpse he'd gotten.

The next time the gang got together in that living room, it was the first time Barney had seen Lily since the incident. He was horribly nervous, watching Marshall to see if there was any sign of jealousy. He didn't think Lily had said anything, but he couldn't be sure. The guys were laughing about the Sharpie mustache, saying all the worse things they'd thought about doing at the time.

Lily didn't seem _happy_ exactly, but she didn't seem angry, either. Not like a girl out for revenge. Maybe she had had time to calm down and realize that in spite of all his bad intentions, Barney hadn't set out to walk in on her. It was an accident.

Finally, unable to bear not knowing anymore, Barney walked casually by the couch where Lily was sitting and held out his hand.

Lily looked up at him in annoyance for a moment, then sighed and gave him the high five he was waiting for.

Barney smiled and continued on to sit in the chair at the other side of the couch.

"What was that?" Marshall asked with a puzzled laugh.

"Eh..." Barney shrugged. "Sometimes you just need a Lily-five."

"Check that," said Lily, high-fiving Marshall.

They never spoke of it again.

DD DD DD DD DD DD DD

I'm so glad Marshall can't kill me for this now. *Grin* It was an honest mistake, though.

I don't really have any good juicy stories about Marshall... your dad's told you some funny things about him, and any deep dark secrets he has tend to come out in their own hilarious ways anyway... I might go so far as to say he's even worse at keeping secrets than Lily is. And that's saying something. Maybe I'll think of something later.

In other news, Robin Scherbatsky, AKA my lovely wife, caught me writing this today, and I had to really scramble to keep her from insisting on seeing it.

She came into my study all "Whatcha writin'?"

"Nothing." I slammed the book and tossed it under the desk at my feet. "Who's writing what?"

Her dark eyebrows shot up. "That big-ass tome you just threw under your desk. What's in it?"

"Tome?" My eyes darted downward. "Oh, that tome."

"You're not rewriting the Playbook, are you?"

I hadn't really thought about what Robin would think if she saw me writing this thing. This theory made a little too much sense, and I was tempted to go with it to throw her off the scent, but the idea of worrying her was not a pleasant one. "No," I said in my most rational voice—the one I can't do when I'm thinking about doing it. Doing the voice, that is. Though I can't when I'm thinking of "doing it" either, if you know what I mean. Wink, nudge. "To tell the truth, this is something for _des neveux..._ in the event of my death."

Being Canadian-born, Robin knew enough French to know I was referring to you guys. "Like... a will or something?"

"Or something."

"But... why are you doing that now?" She really seemed concerned.

"It's not that I think I'm gonna die... it's just that there's so much I'll want to say to them that if I don't start writing it down, I may never get the chance."

This careful dealing out of the truth worked a little too well. She came over and put her arms around me and rested her cheek on my head and cuddled me—all very nice, don't get me wrong—and said, "Well, why don't you just call them or visit? Ask Ted if you can take the kids for a weekend or something. Then you can tell them whatever you need to. I mean, don't you think they'd rather hear these things from you now, when they can still talk to you?"

"No," I said immediately. "This is stuff they don't need to know yet, but I want to make sure I pass on to them eventually. Trust me, I know what I'm doing. And I don't want you worrying about it, okay? That's why I didn't want you to see it."

She hesitated, but finally said, "Okay. Is it all right if I read what you're writing to them?"

"It's kind of personal. But I'll write you a nice letter to go with my will. And after the kids are done with this, if they're okay with you reading it, I guess it's fine with me."

(So, Robin, if you're reading this now, I'm sorry for the light subterfuge there... it was for your own good. Our own good. My own good. But I really didn't want to upset you. And if you're honest with yourself, you've been laughing pretty hard at this crap. Right there with you. Ghost-spouse five.)

She seemed satisfied after that, but just in case, I'm keeping this puppy in my super secret safe whenever there's the slightest chance Robin could happen across it. The temptation to read it would probably be too great for her. More soon.

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><p><em>Go for Barney.<em>


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